4 Months on the Road

Mexico through the United States

I traveled down to Mexico and found a place on the strip in Rosarito.  The lady who owned it had an onsite manager and we agreed to $600 per month; $800 upfront to include the deposit.  This left less than $200 for food, since I had used it for gas.  I had stopped in San Diego, stayed in a motel for a few nights, trying to find local shelter, but had no luck since people need to have Interviews, they want people with stable jobs, and I just couldn't find anyone where I could just say hey, I had a great career, hit some down times, have very little money, etc. etc.; the real problem was I was too exhausted to interview with people and I was in a mode of hate, fear, and just fed up with Society.

I spent a couple weeks in Mexico, where I was hoping to just relax by the beach, eat some Tacos and Margaritas and just live, but I knew that wouldn't be a safe place to hang my hat; even though I could visualize it.  I was safe for the most part, but I my battery went bad in my car, so I couldn't leave or keep it charged long enough to drive to Puerto Nuevo for Lobster.  I used the Internet to find someone from the states to come and fix it in exchange for a date.  He was from Iran.  Go figure, I couldn't escape the War, but he was really nice.  I met a guy from the US who was looking to share his place on the beach, but he seemed really odd to me, so I decided to just head back to the states.

I drove up through California and headed toward Sacramento.  I thought I could find somewhere there to settle in, maybe a shelter or get help from the VA; but was unsuccessful.  I found a place ran by a church and it was a stinky run down apartment in the worst part of Sacramento where they crammed 4 people in one apartment with sick, smelly, parolees.  I'd had enough after an old lady tried to smack me.

I headed back to Calaveras County to visit my Dad.  I thought maybe I could patch things up there and stay for awhile.  I had heard he was getting divorced and he was out of town with my Brother, so I thought I could surprise him.  He came home and had me arrested for Trespassing, said I wasn't his Daughter.  The cops threw me on the ground as if I was a danger or a threat to them or my Dad.  I had called the Local Sheriff's when I got there, told him I was my Dad's Daughter and that there were some Domestic issues going on in his life and the house was a mess, but I was there.   I don't remember why I had called them, but I think it was just to alert them that upon arrival, the house was a mess.  I didn't really have any intent, definitely no ill intent, but with a murderer out on the streets, and me being in town, having communicated my concerns, I thought it would be best for safety.  Anyway, my Dad and Brother apparently weren't happy with my presence and called to have me arrested.  I remember why I called now, there was a gun on the counter, the lights were on, and I was confused and scared.

Neither my Dad nor my Brother will speak to me now.

My dirty former Boss from SacSheriff, and other Government Contractors, used to tell me I was going to be forced into a life of crime, and that they would never be on my side if I blew the whistle on their faults.  Even if I was just hearing voices, it was still what I was hearing.  I still blow my whistle today and I'll tell you, it was their fault I am in this place.

I headed for Las Vegas to check out the strip, found even more drugs, but a nice face, claiming to be from Sacramento.  I had a few nights of fun, considered settling in and decided it was best if I made my way back east to see if it was more affordable than the West Coast.  Before I left Arizona, I had researched Virginia and neighboring states, calculating the cost of travel and I even got a 30% payday loan to make sure I got there.

I made it to Danville, VA in about 3 or 4 days; traveling by car, sleeping in truck and rest stops.  I found a church ran shelter there and thought if I could survive the strange "church-like" management, I could settle in, since it was a cute town, even if it was primarily low class African Americans.  I got in touch with the Veterans Administration and was told they had a great place in Roanoke, VA for Veterans, which was about 2 or 3 hours north of Danville.  I packed my bags and walked right into ANOTHER DISASTER.

HUD/VASH Program

Some Phoenix Housing Project:

Great, I finally found somewhere I could live that offered my own apartment paid for partly by the City and the Veterans' Administration.  I was happy to get out of the Shelter environment and pleased with the timeframe.  I was assigned a Case Manager from a program called "Community Building" and also a Case Manager from the VA.  They made sure I got setup with another Veteran's Program to provide used furniture to furnish the apartment and they called it a "Project."  It was definitely the Projects.  It was not far from the 7th Street Phoenix VA, so if I needed medical attention, it was just a few steps away.  There was another All Veteran apartment complex across the street, which looked like a nice place, but the Case Manager said it was Drug Infested.

I settled in and met with on-site Case Managers; so here we have a total of 3 Case Managers, all asking for Case Plans and Goals.  I became angry simply because in this housing project; I was forced to answer to 3 different paid employees and even though each of then tried to do their best in helping; they didn't even realize or have the power to realize they were completely redundant and causing strain on their tenants. I got pissed off a few times, but tried to meet their administrative requirements the best I could, hoping for a great outcome, knowing it was going to be difficult without transportation, food, and living in 115-120 weather.

The population was a mix of lowest class citizens and old veterans.  There were a few fights among tenants, and many of them appeared to be doing drugs, or just poorly carrying themselves.  One man invited me into his apartment, said he was cooking a meal; asked if I wanted some and he had porn on the Television, asked me if I wanted some cocaine.  I was disgusted and when I told a Case Manager, she had the nerve to say "Why did you go into his apartment."  I come from a place in life where I feel I should be able to trust people that are in a program where there are Intake Desks, a full Staff of Managers, that is funded by the Government, but apparently not.

I watched the place and worked with my VA Social Worker to finally get on Disability.  It only took about 6 months to get the first payment.  America is this bad.  I spent time working on my art therapy, and went to work for a little while with a friend's website.  I tried to be friendly with my neighbors, yet keep my distance to protect myself and my sanity, but I still got sick.  It was yet another disgusting low class, deeply impoverished, unintelligent population of former criminals and addicts and I didn't know why I was there.  I began to act out in anger and demanded to leave to another place and my Social Worker had to ask the VA for a move and I found an apartment in another part of Phoenix.  She asked me "What would go wrong in the next place" as if I was inviting problems and or causing them.  I told her I figured I'd be fine once I wasn't surrounded by 100% of sick neighbors.

I settled into my new place and tried to come up with a plan on how to get back to success, meaning, working in a meaningful job, around pleasant people, and enjoying my days off by the water, at the mall, or wherever.  I began dating online again, and I don't know if I'd lost my attractive looks or if the whole Phoenix Population was just ugly and disgusting, but all I met were angry, ugly, sometimes drug addicts.  It felt impossible to survive, like there was no way out of this mess.  The Apartment Management was 100% Mexican ran.

I finally received my Lump Sump Disability check and I bought my car.  I can't believe I made it through the red tape without a hospitalization. The Social Security Department even appeared to lose intelligence, asking for copies of stuff and contradicting their own statements. It was very irritating and led to more suicidal thoughts.

I began to look for work and was able to shop confidently for business wear to get back on my feet and felt like it was actually going to be possible.  I made a complaint about the Management Team, since their Inspection Procedures were screwed up and I began to complain about the VA and their Case Workers, simply because I was placed in yet another area where there was more Drugs and Crime.  I felt like I was a target and was not being heard, so the Management told me I had to leave.  They had several different Maintenance Workers coming into my apartment at various times, fixing things, and their "Maintenance Process" made me so angry; it was totally inconsistent with Normal Rules of Entry; Tenant Privacy; Laws, and even basic Coordination with the City and the VA was lacking; but it was FREE, so who was I to complain.

Just when I was getting better and on my feet, I was being thrown out for calling the Police about Drugs, calling the Management to complain about their processes.  I'll admit, I was not as nice as I once was, but who can be after this Government Garbage.

I packed my Car and headed for Mexico, since I was already seemingly living in Mexico, I thought atleast I'd be near the beach and be able to afford more on my 950.00 per month.  Unfortunately, this was not the case.